


The Trial of Lavellan

by Of Elves and Wolves (Only2morrow)



Series: Ella Lavellan [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Drama, Dreams, Elven, F/M, Feels, Gen, Political, Politics, Post-Trespasser, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-13
Updated: 2016-02-21
Packaged: 2018-04-26 06:31:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 18,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4993879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Only2morrow/pseuds/Of%20Elves%20and%20Wolves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Inquisition is disbanded and Inquisitor Lavellan has given up her power. But with the matter of her entanglements with The Dread Wolf public knowledge; every action, every compassion is put to trial.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

“Sir?” with a soft knock upon the oaken door, an elven scout entered the room finding his general toying with pieces upon a chess board, “There has been a development concerning the Inquisitor. I was told you wished to be informed the moment there was a change regarding the status of the Inquisition.”

“Yes?” the Dread Wolf replied, his cool brow arching as his fingers smoothed over the queen upon the board, “Report.”

“The humans are placing the Inquisitor on trial.” the scout informed his general, his voice even yet, apprehensive, “It seems as they are not convinced she is not working with you. Divine Victoria protested, but both Ferelden and Orlais are calling for her head.”

“I see.” the Dread Wolf replied to the scout, though the wolf still held his calm exterior an armored hand clutched over the queen in his hand, “Even as she saves them with her breath, they will still call her a villain. Familiar.”

Palpable silence remained between the two before Hanon spoke, breaking his general's concentration upon the chess piece, “Orders?”

“For now?” the Dread Wolf sighed, a heavy, exasperated thing. As hard as it would be, there was only one option at the moment, “Watch this closely. Tell me of any developments. Perhaps there is still a chance that the humans can see reason.”

“And if not?”

“Then we shall show them how wrong they are.”


	2. Arrested

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Returning with heartbreak, the Inquisitor faces the Exhaled Council.

"Order! Order!" Teagan shouted. The Bann then stood clapping his hands upon the table before him, "We will have order!" 

With force Ellana Lavellan slammed the Chantry writ before the members of the Council, even with her shortened body the elven woman was still formidable, toned yet supple. Her hips flared unlike other willowy hunters of her race, her form crafted from years of study over the light of a candle, rather than joining the hunt. A long braid hair fell past her shoulder, the same color as the fabled iron-bark weapons the Dalish crafted, a tanned hand smoothed over the braid idly once she made her show, years of the sun reflecting upon her skin. But though her eyes burned with a heated ferocity, it was a cold burn of blue that reflected beneath. "We began this Inquisition for a reason. We set out to bring order to this land, and we accomplished that. With Corypheus dead, this Inquisition is here by disbanded.”

The crowd remained eerie in their silence as the Inquisitor turned from the Council her feet setting in a hard march as she began to exit the room. Her duty to Thedas completed the moment Corypheus laid slain, her obligation to the people was complete. While one burden yet remained, Ella would not find it in this cold room, but beyond an ancient elven mirror barred from her grasping fingers.

"Except we are not at peace, are we? " Duke Cyril raised his hand, motioning for the armed guards of Orlais each dressed in the clean perfection of the nation they represented,"This Council is no where near finished. Guards seize this woman."

"What is the meaning of this?!? " Cassandra replied with pure outrage dripping from her voice, she stood from her seat, the flowing robes of her Divine's garb lording over the crowd out with a firm, yet gentle hand, " The Inquisitor has done her duty. It is done. This Council is done.”

With quieted feet, Ella backed away from the guards cornering herself like a wild animal she readied her hand with magic, a faint crackling purple glow of Mother Nature began to surround the one remaining appendage, the guards circling her like lions to a feast, "Cassandra, do... Something." 

"This is not a matter for the Divine." Duke Cyril spoke, a sneer laced with in his voice as he pointed to the Inquisitor, "You have crimes to answer for Inquisitor Lavellan."

"Crimes?" the Inquisitor turned, her blue eyes full of cold fury as she barked at the Council, "What have I done, beyond fixing every fucking thing in Thedas?!? If you both would remember, I saved Redcliffe and Orlais!" 

"Before you deemed us worthy to speak to, your Ambassador informed us of this 'Dread Wolf' and his intentions... " Bann Teagan replied, barking in return and equal in his outrage," Did you think you could get away with this, Inquisitor?!? That we would not question you?!? "

A silent apology passed between Josephine and the Inquisitor, as Ella's eyes fell to the floor. Perhaps it had been a foolish to hope that her lovers terrible intentions would be kept from the world, that perhaps she may have been given a small chance to change his tormented mind before the masses were set upon him like wolves to the lamb.

But that opportunity passed just as quickly as so many others had. 

"Inquisitor!" Bann Teagan spoke, snapping the Inquisitor out of whatever daze of memory she drifted to, "Answer us!" 

"I don't know what you want me to say. " Ella replied, her voice soft, speaking not of the fierce, Dalish woman who graced this court moments before, she who had become more symbol than woman. But of the heartbroken girl beneath, still nursing old wounds ripped open again,"Solas' actions are his own, whatever he was-is planning, I had nothing to do with it.”

Not out of choice. At times she could still feel his lips dance upon hers, the pain of her hand twisting with the warm comfort of the touch only Solas could provide. In those moments, with limbs so perfectly entwined, breath consumed by only one another like wood upon a fire, there was no terrible future, no questions in the past. She would have gone anywhere, done almost anything just to see the crooked smile upon his face, to hear the bright laughter so often dimmed by the world around them.

Had he asked, had Solas pleaded, voicing the betraying wants with in his heart, her feet would have taken her through that ancient mirror and by his side working with cool ease, hoping to change his heart with each soft smile upon his face.

But fate was never so kind.

"The problem is, Lady Inquisitor, we do not believe you. It is well known that you and this, 'Solas' were lovers. You are an elf, are you not Lady Inquisitor? It is the elves who conspire with this 'Dread Wolf'! The evidence is clear, Lady Lavellan.” " Duke Cyril spoke as yet again silence fell over the crowd, "Ellana Lavellan, you are here by placed under arrest for conspiracy and treason to the crown. You will be given a fair trial before your fate is decided."

"You can not do this!" Cassandra yelled at the two men, her hands gripping upon the hard planes of the table, "She is the Inquisitor! She has done nothing wrong. She was the woman to slay Corypheus! She saved us all!”

"And the lover of the man who seeks to doom us all, his accomplice! We can not over look one for the sake of the other." Bann Teagan shook his head as the guards surrounded the Dalish elf, "Guards, take her away. The Inquisitor will remain in the dungeon until her fate can be decided." 

The Dalish elf's hand began to glow again with familiar purple crackle of lightning just as the guards circled in closer to their prey. Instinct called for the grabbing of her staff, but the iron-barked weapon was no where to be found in this place of 'diplomacy'. 

"Inquisitor please!” Pushing through the ogling masses, Josephine fixated herself between the guards and the Inquisitor. Turning, the Ambassador's eyes seemed saddened, taking the Inquisitor's one remaining hand in to hers, “Do not end this in violence. We will fight this. I promise you.”

The faint glow of the Inquisitor's Fade-touched fingers dimmed as defeat came over her. The guards circled in as Josephine moved, beginning to tie her hand to her, binding the savior of Thedas as they would bind an animal. 

It was madness. It was unthinkable. And yet, only one memory played in her head as the guards grasped her in their armored hands. 

_"They will not thank you for this you know." Solas spoke, hands pulling her closer to his body as if she were a grain of sand eager to slip through his grasp, "More often than not, the people cast down a hero as quickly as they raise them up.”_

_"So grim and fatalistic." Ella replied, her nude body draped over his as the morning light warmed them both. A teasing smile took her lips as she pressed them to his, "Perhaps this heroes story has a happy ending."_

_"I pray you are right, Vhenan."_

Oh, how wrong she had been.


	3. Into the Dungeon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arrested and betrayed, Ellana Lavellan and her advisers search for solutions.

For the third time in three years, Ellana Lavellan sat with in a damp and dreadful dungeon.

The luxury of Skyhold drifted to the fickle wind leaving only a cold metal cot for sleeping with in her dungeon room. Though the pristine Orlesian guards remained, the bindings upon her skin no longer troubled her. Instead the guards entertained themselves with easy taunts murmured at the Dalish elf. 

Even as the guards whispered among themselves, she turned a deaf ear to their jabs. Rather choosing to lay upon the cot, in hopes of sleep coming to claim her restless mind. An ache of exhaustion racked her bones as, and a hardened scowl crossed her lips. Her eyes catching sight of the bug ridden pillow near the head of her cot, disgusted sigh leaving her before pushing the thing to the floor below.

In days before, when the forest was more her home than the unfeeling stone of holds, sleep seemed to come with ease. The uncharted depths of the Fade refuge for a woman who spent lonely days over ancient tomes rather than conversing with her bustling clan.

Only one man understood the loneliness that accompanied a woman as she, and that man seemed further with every passing moment. At times she wondered if perhaps it was better that Keeper Deshanna perish before she lived to see her First known as the lover of the fated Dread Wolf.

Still, despite her crumbling world around her, the title was one she wore with pride. The stolen moments she and Solas shared in the painted rotunda of Skyhold gave her more comfort than any measure of approval.

A weighted sigh left her lips as she finally gave up on the sleep that beckoned to her. Though it seemed from the commotion outside of her room that fading back in to a world of rest would soon be out of the question.

“This is preposterous!” Cassandra threw her hands to the air as she burst in to the dungeon room. Though a guard stood before her, the Divine wasted little time pushing the man out of the way even as he moved to bow, “I am the Divine! They can not do this.”

“As terrible as this is, I am not surprised.” Cullen scoffed in return, though he followed near behind Cassandra he took care.“ We knew the court was fickle, but I did not think them this terrible.” he paused, a hand combing over the growing stubble upon his chin, the mark of a man with as little sleep as the Inquisitor, “We do still have an army. Say the word and we will have you released with force. We’ve done this before. It was your order that released Ranier from his prison.”

“And start a war in the process? Ranier was one thing, but to defy Ferelden and Orlais?” Leliana shook her head, her voice thick with frustration, “We can not stand against the might of both nations. Not now. While I am sure Duke Cyril may have a few skeletons in his closet, I know Bann Teagan. He is a good man. He will not give this up.”

“Then what choice do we have?!? ” Cassandra snapped, her patience already a fuse itching to ignite, “ We must do something! This is not how Thedas should repay it’s savior!”

While the others argued, the Inquisitor stood from her cot, walking to the bars of the damp dungeon. “Do I not get a say in this?” she spoke, but with the increasing tone of the heated argument between her beloved advisers, her cries fell upon deaf ears.

“Can everyone please STOP!” the Inquisitor shouted halting their cries. Dark shadows filled the bronze skin beneath her eyes, cracks upon the woman who seemed a rock. A steady mountain for the faithful to gaze upon with reverence. “How did this even happen?”

A scowl came upon Leliana’s pale face, her hood falling over her reddened hair, “The choice was made after you returned with news of Solas. Given how the Council reacted to the news of the Qunari. We thought it best to inform the Council of the development.”

“Josephine and I thought it best.” Cullen spoke, the scowl upon his lips audible in his tone. Even for a man as serious as the Commander this evening had taken it’s toll. “What Solas is planning is…Unacceptable. Josephine thought it best to be upfront with the Council, given that they had not reached a decision yet. I thought they should have some warning given the horrors Solas plans. We never thought-”

“Of course you didn’t.” Ella replied, her voice still weighted, but no trace of blame laced itself beneath her words, “We operated for years with only praise. I thought some of that thanks would extend to us now. But I was wrong.”

For a moment, the words hung in silence like rain waiting to fall to the ground below, no one person making the first move. Cullen beginning to rub the back of his neck in an awkward motion. Cassandra, more interested in the locks upon the prison door, perhaps pondering a way to test their mettle upon her steel.

Leliana sighed, breaking the dead air of the dark dungeon with the ease of breaking a crust of bread. “That still does not explain where the Council learned of you and Solas from. That was hardly common knowledge.”

A question that ran through Ella’s mind more than once. Though she and Solas were never hidden, the details of their romance seemed to stay with in the whispering confines of the Inquisition. The people favoring the image of a their pure Herald rather than a woman with wants and needs fulfilled by limbs entangled upon a bed.

While the silence loomed over the dungeon yet again, each pondering coherent response, the Ambassador entered the dark room, an even darker expression upon her face. “News?” Cullen demanded before Josephine could even speak. “Will they see reason?”

The silence hung upon the room for what seemed like an eternity of eating, all eager for some answer.“I tried to sway them to reason, but both Orlais and Ferelden are set on this course. To make matters worse, I now know where the Council is getting their information from. Madame Du Fer is supplying the Council with her version of events.”

“Viveinne?” the Inquisitor paused, shock ridden in her voice, “How could she do this?!?”

“Quite easily it seems.” Josephine scowled, her voice stern yet gentle as she held on to her candle lit board, “Madame Du Fer was quick to inform Duke Cyril of your more… Rebellious opinions and actions. The ‘Grand Enchanter’ did not paint a flattering picture of you or Solas, I can promise you.”

Stewing in the thought of her betrayal and every implication that remained, Ella turned from the cold prison bars falling back upon the cot, “So we can’t use favor, because the court is fickle. We can’t use force, or we start a war. And blackmailing will only calm Orlais. What choice does that leave?”

“We go to trial.” Josephine offered, albeit with a weakness in her tone. It was not optimal, but no other choice remained.

“Then we go to trail.” Ella replied, a sigh escaping her as she laid back upon that cot, “Mythal help us all.”


	4. Friend or Foe?

Within that dreadful dungeon Ella laid upon that metal cot, tossing a bright red ball into the air with the one hand that remained. A small luxury afforded to her by the newly amiable guards. Though this damp room could hardly be called home, the quiet of the dungeon was something of a pleasant change of pace from the hustle and bustle of Skyhold.

For the first time in years she could sit undisturbed, think uninterrupted. She could breathe without the thought of lives in the balance, nations in peril. In strange ways it was almost a relief; no great evils loomed, no nobles to please. Her fate belonged to her and her alone.

Odd, to think how much had changed in the past years. No longer did she spend her evenings huddled over a fire and listening to her hahren, spinning tales of the glorious Elvhen past. She lived it. Her feet walked across the fallen empire of her people. She'd seen the carnage first hand.

_"The elves blamed the humans for their lost immortality. But it was me."_

In frustration she threw the ball across the room, the thing smacking upon the wall before rolling across the floor.

"Dread Wolf, take me!"

The words escaped her mouth before she could think. A terrible slip of the tongue from a habit older than her first gaze at the smile upon his face.

Solas.

The Dread Wolf.

The concept seemed bizarre.

The Dread Wolf was legend. A terrible figure used to frighten elven children, and their parents alike. Fen’Harel was a curse. A stain on the Elvhen people.

The Bringer of Nightmares did not paint murals, or snort when he chuckled.

And yet, from that first rift, the first time their hands intertwined in the faded light of green, she found herself enamoured. Her curiosity blended with a deep hunger for knowledge only he could sate. With each new question that emerged from her lips, his eyes sparked, stoking the warm flame between them.

Then Skyhold became their home. Hours spent in knowledge, which blossomed into intimacy. Simple smiles transformed into a consuming dance of the lips. Bright laughter that escaped the room where only colours spoke.

She was his as he was hers.

Even now.

“Get up!” with a loud bang, the door to the dungeon swung open, the aged metal slamming against the stone wall.

“Your presence is requested. As if you have a choice, rabbit.” A low, menacing growl emerged from her throat as the guard came closer, opening the prison door with a painful creak.

So this was the end, was it? Even the right to a fair trial had vanished. The people decided her fate the moment they chose to cast down their hero. How would they do it this time? Hangman’s noose? The sharp blade of an axe? Would she find herself before the people, given one last time to state her case; a cruel parallel to her own actions in Skyhold?

“Where are you taking me?” Ella barked, as the new guards grasped her with unkind hands. She stifled her growls for the sake of survival, though it would all too easy to lunge for the hilt of a sword and begin her magical battle.

“You could at least tell me that much. I think for saving the world from certain doom, I deserve that.”

“This way.” the first guard answered, ignoring her question as he forced the elf to hasten her steps. 

With sudden movement she squirmed, but their grip only became tighter, before they shoved her down the damp hallway and into a small room.

The room itself was unremarkable. The walls were similar to her cell's; stone caked in mould which left a foul stink that seemed to permeate the entire area. Though there were no prison bars in the room, a small table and two chairs crafted from simple oak sat with in the middle of the room.

And in one of those chairs, was a man.

A shem, by the look of him. Undistinguishable rounded ears and raven black hair, cropped short. His face was sculpted, yet charming, complimenting his tall body. His eyes were cunning like a serpent's, green in colour, carefully observing. Though his nose came to a point, it suited his strong jaw, and the gentle smirk in the curve of his lips.

“Eirik Warlen.” The man offered his hand to the Inquisitor, smirk curling into a smile that did not reach his eyes. He went without gloves, which seemed odd, considering Ella's knowledge of the nobility. This man appeared to belong as such. Dressed in a blue cascading doublet and black breeches, with a golden dragon chain about his neck, his fake smile turned to a scowl as the Inquisitor left his hand untouched. The wry nature of the Dalish bred under her skin.

“Ah.” Eirik replied, the scowl vanished from his thin lips as his hand dropped. “Cautious I see. Not that I blame you. I'm sure this ordeal is frightening. And I'm afraid I will not make this easier.”

“You still haven't told me what I'm doing here.” Ella spat, as the guards forced her into the empty chair. The braid Josephine once assisted with had become messy, chestnut strands strewn wildly out of place. The Inquisitor much more the picture of the savage Dalish elf rather than the Herald of Andraste.

“What is this? And where is Josephine?”

“Are you saying that you constantly need council?” Eirik jabbed, a smug smile settling upon him once more.

“Perhaps you are in fact guilty after all. That will make my job so much easier.”

A hardened scowl settled upon Ella's features as she looked over the man again. Smug. Well dressed. Charming. It was all too clear who he was and what she was doing in this tiny room.

“What do you want?” she sighed, dropping her gaze.

“Right to the point I see. I like that. And sharp too. I can see why The Dread Wolf took such a shine.”

Eirik laughed, an unkind sound. Relaxing in his wooden chair, the man sat his hands upon the wood before continuing.

“I am here to represent the injured party. The people. Duke Cyril and Bann Teagan have both asked me to assist in this case as a neutral third party. See, we humans do value compassion. I have no prejudice against you. I seek justice. And if you are innocent, you have nothing to fear.”

“No prejudice?” Ella snapped back, gritting her teeth in restrained anger.

“Your guard called me ‘Rabbit’. They dragged me here. This entire thing is a prejudice!”

“Yes. I know.” Eirik sighed, inspecting a spot on the wall. His lips curled in a charming smile once more, even as the Inquisitor's eyes surged in heated indignation.

“But we are here. And I have a few questions if you don't mind.”

“For what? To help you build a case against me? I don't think so.” she returned his smile with a biting snap.

“I'd rather return to my cell. At least I had some quiet there rather than listening to you ramble.”

“And so feisty.”

She rolled her eyes, sniffing at his 'compliment'. There had been a time in which she would have graced similar phrases a polite smile, but those moments were long since past.

“If it's questions about Solas, Void take you.” the Inquisitor replied standing from her chair. “Guards. Take me back to my cell.”

“It's just a few general questions, Inquisitor Lavellan. Answer them and I'll even persuade the court to allow you a decent meal. Perhaps even a bath. You could sorely use one.” Eirik offered, graceful hand motioning to the old chair.

“No questions concerning The Dread Wolf. You have my word.”

She paused. Every last bone in her body fighting her foolish pride.

Though the look the man's face reminded of the regret she would feel later, the urge for cleanliness won out in the end.

“Ask. But I make no guarantee I'll answer.”

Taking a seat once more, Eirik began in his questioning.

“At the Temple of Sacred Ashes. It is said that when you walked out of the Fade there was a woman behind you. Is that true?”

She blinked. What a strange question to ask. Three years passed since that day, Her story as the Herald becoming a song for bards to sing in taverns.

“It is. That tale is well known. I don't see what this has to do with-”

“And the mark that was once on your hand. It was revealed to be elven, but exactly how did you come to possess such a thing.” Eirik asked, curiosity laced with in his charming voice.

“You were no one. A nobody. And somehow you ended up with so much power.”

“Right place right time. If you must know.” Ella murmured, eyebrows narrowing inwards at the remark.. “Solas had nothing to do with it. We had yet to meet when I touched the orb.”

“I did not say he did.” Eirik replied, a shake in his head. “Just one last question. I've heard that you walked the Fade and spoke to a… spirit? What exactly was she?”

“In truth?” the elf shrugged, messy braid shifting to hang over her shoulder.

“I don't know what she was. It could have been Andraste herself if I believed in that sort of thing.”

Motioning to the guard, Eirik smiled giving Ella a grateful nod. “That will be all Inquisitor Lavellan. I will see that you get the meal and bath as promised. Guards if you could… gently bring the Inquisitor back to her cell. I would be most grateful.”

As she stood walking out of that small room a chill shivered down where spine. Eirik's questions were so simple, so…mundane. She was on trial for her involvement with Solas, not her dealings with the Chantry.

There was an angle she'd yet to see. A dagger shadowed behind reasonable words.

And with her luck, this dagger would be aimed at her heart.


	5. Into the Lion's Den

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time passes and Ella becomes restless over her fate.=

Though days had passed since Ella entered that damp dungeon; Eirik stayed true to the Inquisitor. His promise of having not only a hot and filling meal, but cleanliness fulfilled within hours. 

But that was days ago...

Restlessness took Ella once more. Her wandering nature constrained to a terrible degree locked within that prison. No word was sent, no visitors granted. Her fate was as shifting as the cool wind that chilled the Winter Palace. 

It was small compensation that the Orlesian guards were friendly. Once their taunts became worn and aged, their words transformed into teasing jabs. Almost into an idle pleasant conversation.

“Wait, you did what now?” Philips, the older of the two guards replied. 

Aged yet regal, he leaned against the pike in his hands peering in at the elven woman behind bars. 

“You're shitting me.”

“Not at all.” Ella answered from her cot as a smile swept her rounded face. 

For once, since this entire charade started, it was a simple luxury to speak about someone other than the man who broke her heart. 

“It was the drunken idea of a friend of mine.”

“Sera right?” Mera, the younger of the two, a woman hailing from Val Royeaux, laughed as she peered in at the elf.

“Sera’s the blonde one? Likes wearing plaid?”

“Yep.”

“No way! I cannot believe it. You can not tell me the two of you actually released the animals from the zoo.” Philips replied once more.

With a nod and a knowing smile, Ella continued in her tale.

“Oh yes.” the Inquisitor began as a chuckle escaped her lips, “We were arrested on the spot. Sera escaped, but I was still a bit… inebriated. Eventually, Solas received the word I sent him, and I was set free. He carried me out if the city after that in his arms.”

“You mean The Dread Wolf carried you.” Philips corrected, the smile dropping off of his face like a ton of bricks dropping to the floor. His tone was no longer light and airy, but sanctimonious in its judgement. 

Ellana Lavellan was not a woman known for holding her tongue however. She was a woman of sparks, bold and brash. Her lips moved before her mind could attempt to filter. A trait of her father, Keeper Deshanna once said. One that often pushed himself barreling into trouble.

**“Solas** carried me.”She emphasized, “Whatever you may or may not think. You have no right to-”

Before the Inquisitor could finish the tongue lashing she’d prepared for the elder guard, the creaky metal of the dungeon door opened. An elven scout appeared poking his ears into the room. 

“Lady Lavellan?” the scout replied, “Ambassador Montilyet has sent word. It is time.” 

The bare faced scout lead the Inquisitor through the dungeon and back into the world of the living. For the first time since she was bound before the nobility in that courtroom, she gazed her eyes upon colors so vibrant they ached to look upon them.

The prim and proper whispered and stared at the wild elf as she was dragged down the hallway, but it was strangely familiar. Since the moment she stepped out of the Fade, whispers and stares followed her every step. 

But no whispers so deadly as these. 

What was it Josephine whispered in her ear upon first entering this damn place?

“The disapproval of the court could be just as fatal as Corypheus.”

How right she was. 

“If it’s any consolation, I don’t think you’re guilty.” the scout noted as they walked.

Barefaced. Elven. Along with the convenience of being close to her.

“You’re one of his, aren’t you?” Ella asked, her voice lowering as they passed more nobility.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” the scout replied, his features schooled. The same look Ella had witnessed upon Bull’s face while speaking from time to time. “I work for Spymaster Leliana. I’ve known her since the Fifth Blight.”

“Of course you do.” the Inquisitor noted with the roll of her eyes and a scoff in her voice. “And that’s what makes you perfect. He forgets how well I know him. Why did he send you?”

“Inquisitor you are mistaken, I-”

“ **Why?** ” Ella replied, her voice like steel. 

“Why did Solas send you?”

After a few moments of hanging silence, the scout sighed, “He has not forgotten you, nor does he want to see you in danger. I am to watch and report, if action is needed then-”

“No.”

“What?” the scout cocked his head, his pointed ears perking, “...No?”

“I can take care of myself.” Ella snapped, jolting her arm away from the scout. 

“Tell him. That no action is needed and that I’m doing fine. I took care of myself before I met him; I’ll continue taking care of myself now. I do not need the ‘care’ of ‘The Almighty Dread Wolf’.”

Fenedhis! She was a terrible liar. 

“You’re angry.” 

Hot tears stained her cheeks, where the markings of her vallaslin once were. She did not wish to give this scout the satisfaction of her feelings. Feelings she was still trying to sort herself. 

She was silent after the scout’s accusation. Her lips set in a hardened scowl, her heart determined to wall itself, to keep her pride in tact. 

Until that wall cracked. 

“Is he… alright?” Ella asked, a softness lacing itself within her troubled voice. 

The scout was quiet for a moment, choosing his words with care, “He is The Dread Wolf. That is all I can say.”

That simple line said more than the scout could ever know. 

As the doors to the courtroom swung open without a sound, the brilliant sunlight pained her eyes. A vast contrast from the darkness of that dungeon. Though lush carpet cushioned her feet; little time could be afforded basking in its exquisiteness while the court awaited. 

The room seemed so different from the first time she stepped into its sunny light. No longer was the audience a small tribunal. It had become a crowd set upon judgement. 

The grand dais of the judges towered above the tiny elf. Again, three bodies filling its seats. Just as before, Duke Cyril and Bann Teagan took to their scowls and silent judgements. Rather than the friendly face of her friend, the Most Holy, to mediate the Council, a different man sat upon the stand.

Though the elf could not place his name, the man seemed as regal as a prince. Sweeping auburn hair and piercing blue eyes, he seemed too young to be sitting among such nobility. 

“Inquisitor Lavellan.” the young man spoke, his voice booming throughout the room. Through his thick accent, Ella placed the young man from Starkhaven. Strange to find such a man here.

Before the grandiose dais sat two small, yet elegant tables. Josephine Montilyet sitting upon one, and Eirik Warlen sitting upon the other. The angel and devil of her undecided fate. 

“We haven’t the chance to meet yet.” The young man nodded as Ella took her seat beside Josephine. 

“I am Prince Sebastian Vael, of Starkhaven.” the prince offered from his lofty place upon the platform, “It is an honor to meet the fabled Inquisitor. May Andraste keep you.” 

Prince Sebastian Vael. 

This couldn’t be happening. 

The man who ventured with Hawke. 

The same Hawke she left within the terrible depths of the Fade. 

“How is this even possible?!” Ella spoke, her voice little above a whisper looking to Josephine with frantic eyes, “Sebastian Vael? Just hand me to the executioner now!”

“Actually, his ties with Hawke give us an advantage.” Josephine offered, her face meticulously schooled whilst in this sea of piranhas.

“The two were on terrible terms, though I do not think Prince Vael was pleased at her death, he did not weep for her either.” the Ambassador replied. 

As Josephine prepared the ordered stacks of papers before her; Ella peered over at the prosecution. Eirik beamed smugly. No towers of paper before him, just one small stack lead credence to his confidence.

“I take it you have an understanding of why you are here?” Prince Sebastian turned his piercing eyes upon the Dalish elf, his silent judgment already palpable within the silence of the courtroom.

“I understand that this entire proceeding is based on-”

Before she could finish her sentence an elbow conspicuously found itself with in her side. 

“Please, Ella.” Josephine implored, “Do not make this harder than it already is.”

That hardened scowl returned to Ella’s lips, turning her gaze back to the Prince upon the podium. 

“I do.” she replied. She laced no bite in her voice, no sarcastic tone. “I understand.” 

“Good.” 

“Are the people ready to present their case?” 

“We are.” Eirik stood, the blue ruffles of his shirt cascading down. He looked every bit the pristine noble in his garb, a stark contrast from the savage Inquisitor across the room. His smug tone did not subside as he made his case. 

“The people will show that; without a shadow of a doubt; the Inquisitor Ellana Lavellan, proceeded with full knowledge of her lover, The Dread Wolf’s actions. We have compiled our evidence, as requested. Chosen our witnesses carefully, to avoid The Dread Wolf’s tampering grasp. By the end of this trial we are confident that the tribunal will see that even though the Inquisitor saved Thedas, she doomed it to a fate far worse than Corypheus could have ever hoped for.”

“And what do the people ask in return?” Sebastian asked, lounging within the chair.

“Death.”

“Then let the trial begin.”


	6. Leading Questions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The people call Madame de Fer to the stand.”

“Death?”

The entire courtroom felt like a terrible scene from a nightmare played over and over again in her mind. A nightmare far worse than what the demon conjured with in the Fade;this was real. A witch hunt furthered by ugly human ‘justice’, this wasn't a figment of her wandering imagination.

“This woman saved Thedas!” Josephine exclaimed, standing from her chair,

“Surely the court can show mercy.”

“Andraste will show mercy. Please return to your seat, Ambassador.” Sebastian replied, coolly arcing a brow.

Just as Andraste has showed her mercy before? The idea of the Maker’s Bride even existing was absurd at this point.

“If she is innocent, then it will not be hard to prove her as such, Ambassador Montilyet.”

Death. In truth, it wasn’t too far-fetched a concept. How many had the Inquisitor sentenced to the same fate? How many lives ended because of her?

Something she and her lover had in common.

“The trial will proceed as follows.” Sebastian broke the idle wandering of her mind with a snap. “Lord Warlen will present the evidence of the people, then Lady Montilyet will refute the evidence on behalf of Inquisitor Lavellan. You will each be given time to cross-examine each witness if you so choose. Are these terms acceptable to both parties?”

“Yes.” the two spoke in unison.

“Then proceed, Lord Warlen.”

Eirik stood at his chair, his cool green eyes befitting the cunning smile he wore.

“The people call Madame de Fer to the stand.”

Poised and graceful as ever, Vivienne glided to the stand. She radiated cool confidence, her expression completely unphased by the prospect of betraying someone she had once called 'friend'. She settled into her seat, taking a spare moment to send a quick wave to the crowd along with a pleasant smile.

“Madame de Fer,” Eirik began, “I understand you knew both the Inquisitor and The Dread Wolf. Is this correct?”

“It is, darling.” Vivienne nodded, her smile never faltering.

“The Inquisitor I know quite well, or perhaps better than most. I was part of what we called her, ‘Inner Circle.’ A companion of sorts. As for Solas-”

“Please refer to the man in question as The Dread Wolf, Madame de Fer.”

“As for ‘The Dread Wolf’ I can not say that anyone truly knew him. Save for perhaps the demon the Inquisitor allowed to rampage in Skyhold.” Vivienne began with a lofty arrogance, the sort that fit the intimidating hat upon her head.

Ella clenched her fist at the remark. How dare she speak lowly of Cole!

“Not to say that The Dread Wolf was uncivil. He and Iron Bull were friends of sorts after the Inquisitor sacrificed an alliance with the qunari. Though I feel using the word friend is an exaggeration, my dear.”

“But you did have frequent conversations with both the Inquisitor and The Dread Wolf, did you not?” Eirik asked, pacing slowly across the stage of the courtroom.

“In those dealings, can you describe for the court the content of those discussions.”

“Sol--’The Dread Wolf’ and I tirelessly argued over the state of the world.” Vivienne began, loft demeanour never fading.

“He was always quite in favor for overthrowing the rule of the Chantry and granting mages complete freedom. While I on the other hand, believe in the rule of our beloved Chantry and-”

“If you could, Madame de Fer, simply answer the question.”

Standing from her chair, Josephine scowled as she looked upon the Grand Enchanter.

“Where is this line of questioning even going? It is not The Dread Wolf on trial. It is the Inquisitor! Whatever personal feelings The Dread Wolf may have had is a separate matter.”

“Oh, but it has everything to do with her.” Erirk replied motioning to Vivienne upon the stand.

“Your Inquisitor was the one to free the mages, wasn’t she? And at the insistence of who? How do we know The Dread Wolf doesn’t have plans for mages as well?”

“That was my choice!”

Shouting from her seat, Ella stood; palpable heat radiating from her. “I hated seeing mages in Circles, kept in your Maker’s prisons. Mages deserve their freedom! Solas and I weren’t eve-”

“Restrain the Inquisitor!.”

“Ella please.” Josephine pulled the woman back to her seat. “You’re making this worse.”

“Darling, you can shout all you want. But where were you each night before Redcliffe?” Vivienne began with an exasperated sigh, “Huddled over a fire with The Dread Wolf.”

“It wasn’t like that.” Ella replied, her voice little above a whisper.

“It wasn’t.” she looked down at the floor, unable to meet anyone's gaze.

Is that what this trial would be about? Dissecting each and every precious moment between her and her lover, and twisting them to fit some terrible narrative? Those nights were spent weaving tales, sparking heated arguments over the Dalish. They were spent with tentative smiles and sly looks across the shadows of a campsite.

They were not spent in devious manipulation.

Her heart twisted while thinking of the last time they spoke, an sigh escaping her lips.

Gathering a few papers, Eirik walked with confidence to the great dias, presenting his evidence.

“Witness accounts from Haven regarding the content of these conversations.”

Complete silence fell over the court as Sebastian looked over the papers, passing them to the men beside him. Every set of eyes searched their combined expressions for some clue, some hint as to the secrets that lay inside.

The crowd grew impatient as a furrow emerged upon Sebastian's brow.

“Consorting with demons?” Sebastian glared, eyes locked upon the Inquisitor. His voice held barely muted anger. “Is this true? This is a very grave charge. The penalty for even consorting with a blood mage is death.”

“Madame de Fer.” Josephine stood from her seat, regarding the woman with cool confidence. The Ambassador was completely poised, pristine in her commanding, yet approachable presence. She reached to the witness stand as Eirik took his seat, his line of questioning ending with the terrible reveal.

“Have you ever, in your entire time with the Inquisitor and The Dread Wolf, ever witnessed either of them using blood magic?”

“I have never seen The Dread Wolf slice his hand and use blood, but the man regularly spoke with spirits. He was unafraid of demons. Do I think he consorted with them? Of course-”

“I did not ask what your opinion was.” Josephine replied, cutting the woman off before she could even think to finish. “I asked what you witnessed. Have you, Madame de Fer, ever physically witnessed The Dread Wolf or the Inquisitor use blood magic?”

“No.”

Josephine smiled politely, careful to hide smugness beneath a carefully concealed mask. Ella mirrored her smile, though she had never been much of a diplomat, and instead beamed with hopefulness.

“And in Haven, where you claim to have overheard plans to free the mages. Where were your quarters located?” Josephine asked with the cool determination of a woman of the court.

“In the Chantry.”

“I remember quite well.” Josephine’s lips curled in a knowing smile, “Though I must say, Madame de Fer. I do not remember seeing you ever leave the Chantry. In fact, I remember you very clearly never leaving the Chantry.”

“I do not see what this has to do with-”

“Did you, or did you not leave the Chantry?” Josephine asked yet again, “While in Haven, I am not speaking of your journeys with the Inquisitor.”

“I was not… fond of the assorted tents of Haven.” Vivienne replied, distain clear on upon her face. “But I do not recall you leaving the Chantry much either, Lady Ambassador.”

“So, if you admit to staying within the warm, comforting safety of the Chantry the majority of the time, how could you possibly comment on what The Dread Wolf and the Inquisitor spoke about in the evenings?”

The question hung in the air like a weight, the crowd spellbound for whatever answer Vivienne could give. What would she say? What would she imply?

“We all knew what they were saying.” Vivenne considered her words with careful choice; playing the game as well as Josephine could.

“You didn’t need to be sitting with them in Haven to know that, Lady Ambassador. But if you must know, I did travel with the two of them. And on those nights, I had no choice but to listen to their conversations on the world and how ‘they’ thought it should be. I listened to The Dread Wolf and the Inquisitor talk about summoning spirits to converse with. I listened to Ellana bemoan the horrors 'imprisoned' mages faced, and how much better lives would be if they were set free. I know these things to be true Lady Ambassador. I would not be speaking under oath otherwise.”

Ella scowled as she looked upon Vivienne. Oh, how she regretted every moment that woman stood within her halls in Skyhold. How she helped Vivenne when the great Madame de Fer needed, it, she assisted her because it was the right thing to do. They did not always agree, but… Ella had never thought their relationship would come to this.

Perhaps she should have known this would happen.

“If you’re done?” Vivienne snapped at the Ambassador, trying to regain her posture.A hardened scowl was set upon her lips. With only silence in return, Vivienne moved to leave, but Josephine was not yet done with her witness.

“It is not completely uncommon for a spirit to be summoned in the Circle, is it not Madame de Fer?”

Bristling at the accusation, Vivienne scowled deeply, her eyes boring holes into the Antivan.  
“The Circle’s careful magics and The Dread Wolf’s arrogant misuse of his talents are two very different things, Lady Ambassador.”

“But it does happen.” Josephine pointed out to the court, “So, by that logic-”

“Speculation!”

With a smile nothing less than polite, Josephine looked to Vivienne, “No further questions.”

While Sebastian and Vivienne spoke, Ella radiated no less than murder. It wouldn’t take much. She knew how Vivienne worked, she knew her spell rotation. Her barriers were front loaded. It would only take one spell-

But with a restraint not even Ella knew she possessed, she managed to keep some sort of composure. At least until she was back inside her cell.

Another set of guards had been posted, and they idly spoke about the day's trial, among other topics.

Though her eyes watered, she looked away from the guards.. Her ability for composure had crumbled. Hot, angry, tears streamed down the curve of her cheeks. They betrayed the cool exterior she had been aching to keep.

This farce would be the end of her.

She moved to smooth her hair, chestnut braid wildly out of control, once again.

“I can't even keep my hair neat,” she thought, scowling.

Ella groaned in frustration, scrubbing a hand across her face, then dried it off on her pants.

She was better than this. Better than a fumbling mess, she could take control of her situation.

Starting with something small.

Slipping the small dagger from under her boot into her free hand, she pushed the stub of her arm to the wall, holding the dagger to the messy braid.

And cut.


	7. To Feel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “There is… one more thing,” the scout began. “She asked after you. I just thought you should know, ser.”

Weeks past since the scout set foot inside The Dread Wolf’s office. Each day dragging on in itching agony, aching for even a shred of new about the trial.

But none came. 

With lips set in a hardened scowl, Solas fell back into his chair and glanced over the stack of papers on his desk. Orders. Updates. Historical manuscripts.

Sketches of her.

He brushed aside various other documents from the closest sketch. His fingers smoothed over the paper, caressing the curve of her bright face, as if she stood before him. 

Beautiful and free. Proud and spirited. 

The thought of her; caged like an animal, sickened him. She deserved better than rotting away in a dungeon. He seethed with barely contained rage.

All because of him.

He was selfish, selfish in allowing himself to be happy. Pulling her into chaos of his life held consequences.

“Considerations.” he once said. 

Why hadn’t he taken more time? Acknowledged the dangers of life after Corypheus?

A sigh escaped his lips, breath leaving his chest in an exasperated huff. 

He knew why. 

The smile upon her face, that warm, bright smile; meant only for his eyes. The glimmer of concentration when crafting a potion. How her cheeks flushed whenever he drew near.

She was warmth in the cold. Color in a world so muted. She was life. Spirit. 

A cold drink of water after days of thirst.. 

He was drawn to her, like a moth to a flame. 

“Ella,” he whispered smoothing a hand over the sketch yet again.

Yet. Even as those protective emotions toiled in his chest. The urge to wrap his arms around her remained as well.

The faint smell of her hair lingered around him, honeysuckle and cinnamon, wild flowers and mint. Every kiss, every smile, the way her hair would splay across his chest, replayed over and over again. Did she realize how she haunted him? 

How close he had come to giving up everything for her? 

A soft knock rattled upon the door, shaking the memory from his mind. His features carefully schooled themselves into an authoritative mask, but nerves wracked his tall form. 

The appearance of a man anxious in his waiting. 

“Enter.” 

The elven scout hurried inside, wary expression on his face.

“Update.”

“The trial has begun, Sir.” the scout replied with a sigh.

“And?” Solas replied, lips setting in a scowl, “Ella?” 

“She knows.” the scout offered, his hands fidgeting as he rubbed the back of his neck in an awkward motion. 

“I’m not even sure how she knew. I was careful, ser. Very careful. I remained close to her, but did not interact. I tried to deny it, but-”

“She sniffed you out.” Solas sighed heavily, though his lips threatened to curl in a smile. She had a nose for such things, and cunning to match. In truth, it was a wonder she had not figured out his secrets as well.

“Well, what did she say?”

“She is… angry, ser. Very angry,” the scout offered. “Upon being discovered, I reassured her I was only to watch and report. To only intervene if absolutely necessary-”

“And she turned you down.”

“She did, ser.”

Smart. Spirited. 

It warmed his heart to know that after every hurt he’d inflicted upon her that part of her still remained intact. 

Perhaps everything he touched did not sicken on the branch. 

The Dread Wolf paused, carefully considering his next words before parting his lips to speak.

“How...How is she, otherwise?” Solas asked with a tentative tremor in his voice. “Is she… Well? Are the humans treating her properly?”

“I’m not sure what you want me to say, Ser. She is being held in a dungeon. When I escorted her, it seemed as if she had not seen a bath in days or a proper meal. But, she is not faltering, if that is what you ask.”

“And if I may.” the scout continued, “Inquisitor Lavellan has a shot at walking away from this. Madame de Fer may have caused some damage, but the Ambassador has more than enough charm to sway the court. Lady Josephine is quite stunning in her skill, she leaves me impressed after every sentence she speaks.”

“So Vivienne turned on her,” Solas mused.

He stepped over to the small table where his chess set lay. With care, he picked up the crystal queen, fingers running across the piece thoughtfully.

“I should not be too surprised. If Madame de Fer excels at one thing, it is survival.”

“The Grand Enchanter has insinuated before the court that you had a hand in freeing the mages.” the scout offered. “The prosecution alluded that perhaps you and the Inquisitor practice blood magic.” 

“Of course they did.” Solas growled in return, a low menacing thing. He gripped the Queen.  
“Tell me about the prosecution.” 

“Eirik Warlen is a minor Lord. I am still digging up the details of his life.” the scout admitted with slight apprehension. “But he appears to be Ferelden. He is… something of a mystery, Ser. He seems a bit fair,yet he does not relent. He is unassuming. I am continuing to watch him closely.”

“Orders? The Lady Lavellan was quite adamant in refusing help. I am unsure on how to proceed. Beyond watching Lord Warlen.”

Every bone within The Dread Wolf’s body called out for her. For her freedom. To march his full force in to that palace and take her within his arms.To strike down anyone who stood in his way. 

No matter the cost. 

“Ser?” 

Solas’ face twisted with a grimace. He looked pained. Releasing the chess piece from his grasp, Solas finally began.

“Nothing, for now.”

The words ached as they left his lips, but he hardened his heart to a cutting edge. 

“Then I will continue to watch.” 

Stepping to the door, the scout hesitated for a moment glancing back at his general. 

“There is… one more thing,” the scout began. “She asked after you. I just thought you should know, ser.”

The door closed softly as the scout left. Solas fell back into his chair,running his eyes over the sketch once more. Her eyes, the way she took pride in carefully braiding her hair; the jawbone necklace she had treasured as a keepsake. 

“Ir abelas, ma vhenan.”

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Ella sighed in exasperation, lazily fiddling with the shortened strands of her hair. 

All in all, she appreciated the change. However, the comforting action of tugging her braid was gone. For the first time since this entire debacle began, she could control at least one thing. 

Her lips curled into a smile as she pushed the shortened brunette strands from her face. The dungeon remained quiet, the guards choosing to keep to themselves rather than speaking to an ‘dangerous’ blood mage. Even if the statement wasn’t true.

Still, she was no stranger to silence; wanted or otherwise. 

However long it lasted. 

The dungeon door creaked open and Divine Victoria stepped through. Dressed in the white and red garb of her station, she radiated authority. Though guards flanked her sides, the woman was as formidable as ever. She looked upon the guards with a scowl, a disgusted noise escaping her.

“I’ve come for the prisoner.” 

Cassandra narrowed her eyes at the two, “Open the door.”

The guards did not question the woman; but rather scrambled to fulfill her request, tripping over themselves to accommodate the head of the Chantry with nothing less than a smile. 

“And what is this?” Ella asked, as she sat up on the metal cot. If it was an attempt at giving her an escape route, it was a terrible idea.

“This is a surprise. A much needed one, for both of us.” Cassandra smiled fondly at her.

She offered a hand to Ella, helping her rise. For a moment she paused, a wry smile appearing across the Divine's lips as she observed her friend’s hair. 

“The knife within your boot?” 

“How did you guess?” 

With a pat on the back, Cassandra lead Ella out of the dungeon, guards observing every step of the way.

“I was the one who gave you that knife, wasn’t I?”

Cass and Ella walked throughout the halls, hushed voices echoing through the palace. The whispers were faint, softly spoken things, reserved for a time when the leader of the Chantry was not in their presence. The bright corridors were much more pleasing to the eye, compared to the dungeon. Rather than the stinking mold of the prison wall, lavish portraits lorded over the onlookers while exquisite curtains complemented pristine windows.. 

The radiant smile across Cassandra’s lips never once faded as the two strolled through the grand corridors and to a place much more comforting to the two women. 

The barracks. 

Selecting two sparring swords, Cassandra grasped the hilt of one, testing its weight in her hand. 

“So this is what we’re doing.” Ella peered at the blade, “And you are sure the nobility will just accept this? An accused blood mage being given free reign of the barracks?”

“By the will of the Divine, the guards have been cleared out for the afternoon.” Cassandra tossed Ella a blade, laughing softly.

“We will not be disturbed, Ella.” 

A scowl touched Ella’s lips as she dropped the blade, moving to catch it with her phantom limb. With a quick shake of her head, she grasped the sword in her remaining hand, a sigh escaping her lips.

“I suppose that’s something I’ll need to get used to.”

Before the Inquisitor had a moment to take stock of the situation, Cassandra charged with the strength of a forest bear. Ella dodged, or at least tried to, before stumbling straight into a table. With the grace of the Dalish, she recovered, stepping back into the sparring ring.

Looking to the blade, she sighed. Her eyes held a certain sadness she recalled her last battles, before the forest of granite qunari. Before he left, again. 

Cassandra tutted with heavy exasperation, and charged at Ella again, shaking the Inquisitor from her daydreams.

“Focus.” Cassandra ordered. Her tone was not unkind, carrying the authoritative weight of a mentor. The metal blades crashed together, a metallic ring echoing around the room. Though Ella’s defensive technique was sloppy, it was vastly superior to stumbling into yet another table.  
“The court will ask enough questions on how you think Solas is doing. I wish to know how _you_ are.”

“I’m fine. Actually, I’m better than fine.” Ella lied, pushing stray hairs away with the stub of her elbow. “How is the Chantry?”

A vivid laugh emerged from Cassandra, bright enough to fill up the room around them.

“What is the saying? Healers make the worst patients? You do not have to feign interest in the Chantry in order to dodge questions about yourself, Ella. I have known you long enough to understand that you do not have any interest in the Chantry beyond their treatment of elves. Tell me.”

Ella hesitated, lowering the sparring blade. “I’m fine.” 

“No, you are not.”

“Cass.” 

She spoke with a certain familiar nature; only to come from years of friendship with the woman known as The Divine.

“I’m fine. I’ve been locked in a dungeon for weeks, I’ve been practically starved, and I can’t show the slightest shred of emotion in court. Everything is fine.”

“Ella, please. I am your friend, I know when you’re distressed.” Cassandra lunged at the elf, blades clashing as she pushed Ella to the ground.

“Talk to me.” 

“I’m fine!” Ella shouted. 

“I can’t sleep. Eirik Warlen is making appear to be a monster. And the gods I would pray to are not actually gods to begin with. But I am fine!”

“Good! Keep yelling.” The Divine’s lips curled in a smirk, “More!”

“I’m fine!” Ella yelled, stumbling as Cassandra dodged her clumsy riposte.

“No… you know what. I’m not fine. I’m angry! I’m pissed off that this fucking world wants to hang me up for the _one_ bit of happiness I found whilst saving their asses!” 

Swords crashed clumsily yet again as Ella tried her best to compensate for the lack of two hands. “I’m angry because he should have trusted me! Should have told me earlier! I would have understood! I loved him. Why didn’t he just tell me?”

“But most of all I’m angry at myself. I can’t even move on because I still love him. Still. After two years. After everything he’s told me.” Her voice cracked, tone growing softer. Hot tears marred her face.

“I still love him.”

“I hold out hope that Solas will reconsider,” Cassandra said, giving Ella’s shoulder a reassuring pat. “Perhaps then-”

“I don’t know.” Ella sighed,dropping her sword to the floor in defeat.

“First, I’ve got to survive this trial, ma falon. Then... I don’t know what comes next.”


	8. Surprises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The people call the Magister Dorian Pavus to the stand.”

Hours passed, swords clashing against swords with a new clumsy awareness. Bright laughter emerged from the sparring room, even with Ella’s constant tumbling to the ground below. Having a simple moment with a friend lifted a part of that dark shroud from her soul, bringing a bright smile to her face for the first time in weeks.

As the two women exited that sparring room and headed back into the hallway, smiles took them both. Even with the terrible truths of their lives taking them on separate journeys, they still held a friendship that never failed.

“Tell me again about this book Josephine smuggled in for you.” Cassandra smiled, a bright, beaming thing settling upon her normally stern face.

“It’s been weeks since I’ve heard a good romantic tale. You must tell me.”

“I’m not sure if I would call this a romance-” Ella began, pushing a stray bit of iron-barked hair from her face, “It doesn’t end very well. Or at least not happily, anyway.”

“But that’s what makes it so good.” Cassandra laughed as the people in the hallway parted before The Divine.

“Their love still endures. No matter what life throws at them, it endures. Even if life takes them in different directions, their hearts still belong to one another. What is not romantic about that?”

Ella laughed, a harsh thing echoing through the hallways. Though the thought of her ancient elven lover still stung, she was at least able to laugh, if not darkly.

“It doesn’t feel very romantic.”

With eyes that were no less smug and cunning than usual, Eirik Warlen smirked at the two as they walked the hallways. He did not seem angry at the freedom the Inquisitor recently acquired, but rather amused at the sight of the two women simply walking.

“I would question this, but as a loyal member of the Chantry I know better than to question my Divine.”

A deep scowl swept upon Cassandra’s face as the man smirked. Though every bone in her body called out for some sort of response, the Divine held her tongue. Even if the Dalish did not.

“We’re busy.” Ella snapped at the man pushing forward she continued,“Take your questions somewhere else. I have no time for them. Now if you’ll excuse us.”

Eirik’s green eyes twinkled--the same as the coloring of the dragon’s necklace around his neck--his expression never changing from that razor sharp smirk as he stepped aside for the two women. The Dalish elf wasted no time making her feelings known to the advocate, purposefully pushing the man aside with her stubbed arm.

“The courtroom is this way, Inquisitor Lavellan.”, Eirik chuckled a bit, motioning to the great hallways.

“What?”

She paused for a moment her mind registering the words spoken. Her heart felt as if it had been dropped off of a building.

“Were you not informed?” Eirik replied, that fox-like smirk never leaving his face.

“Perhaps, if you had been in your cell--rather than out and about--you would have heard by now. My witness was in quite the hurry to return to Tevinter, so much so I thought perhaps that he was trying to skip out on being called to the stand. I know that’s not the case, because who would want to miss out on my questioning? So, I thought it only polite to give the man the pleasure of my company.”

“This is preposterous.” Cassandra scoffed at the man before continuing, “Dorian? Really?”

Dorian? But why? That made little sense. Dorian was a friend treasured more than all the rubies in the Nevarran crown. He was a man of steadfast integrity and complete loyalty. Dorian would never turn on her.

That scowl, hard as steel, appeared upon Ella’s lips as she looked to Eirik. Her eyes narrowed to a murderous degree, her blood boiling under her bronzed skin.

“You think this is funny?” Ella poked the man with force pushing him to the wall of the hallway before she continued, “This is my life! My friends! Once this is over, you’ll go back to whatever estate they pulled you from and live your happy little life playing the Grand Game. Or at least pretending to play it, while I’ll probably be dead. Because of you.”

For the first time since bumping into the two women in the hallway the smug smirk upon Eirik’s face dropped, his tone becoming grave as he spoke.

“No, Inquisitor Lavellan. If you die, the fault lies with you and The Dread Wolf.”

Before long the people filed into the courtroom like books on a shelf, each ripe with their stories and secrets. The whispers had yet to quiet, each eye calculating. Searching for some purchase for their own personal theories. 

 

Even calm, collected Josephine seemed a little on edge.

“I’m sorry. I went to your cell but the guards only mentioned that Divine Victoria stopped by,” The Ambassador whispered as Ella took to the seat next to her, a soft frown touching her lips.

Silently, Ella nodded in return saying little for there was little to say.

The Starkhaven Prince took his seat upon the center of the dais, seeming a little off himself. There was a twinge of aggravation in his greeting to Duke Cyril and Bann Teagan, yet he still proceeded further.

“Lord Warlen.” Sebastian began, “I take it you have a reason for calling this unscheduled session? What is so important that it could not wait a few days?”

Eirik stood at his table, that smirk returning to his lips, “It has come to my attention that one of my witnesses will not be in the Winter Palace much longer. As this witness is integral to my case, I thought it best to call the attention of the court immediately.”

Sebastian scowled, his eyes inspecting the man before him.

“Proceed.”

“The people call the Magister Dorian Pavus to the stand.”

Escorted by guard, Dorian was no longer the charming man of the court. Instead, he radiated a simmering anger beneath his handsome exterior. He jolted his arm away from one of the guards, quickly trying to place a smile on his lips before meeting Ella’s eyes.

As always. Dorian wasted no time voicing his opinion to those around him.

“This is ridiculous!” Dorian exclaimed as he was escorted to the stand, “I told you already! I have nothing to say!”

“Magister Pavus, please.”

“I will not, ‘please’ Lord Warlen. Not in this context anyway.” Dorian snapped back as he took his seat upon the stand. His arms folded in a guarded stance, his legs crossing with years of manners.

“You will not win points putting a big bad *scary* magister upon the stand. No matter how appealing he may look.” Dorian rolled his eyes, sitting back with in his chair, “I may not approve of what Solas--”

“--The Dread Wolf.”

“Oh fine.” Dorian snapped back at the man.

“I may not approve of what ‘The Dread Wolf’ is doing, but I’m smart enough to know the difference between him and that lovely woman sitting over there. *She* did nothing but save us all. So she fell in love with the wrong man? We’ve all done it. This entire thing is as ridiculous as that blue doublet you’re wearing.”

The smirk upon Eirik’s face dropped shattering like glass upon the ground, instead a scowl appearing upon his face as he scrambled to collect himself.

“We didn’t call you here to discuss my fashion sense Magister Pavus.”

“What would there be to discuss? You clearly do not have one.”

“Magister Pavus.” Sebastian scowled from his lofty place, “Please.”

Dorian sighed and rolled his eyes. “Ask your questions then.”

“Magister Pavus, how would you describe the nature of your relationship with the Inquisitor?” Eirik began, pacing upon the floor below, “Please, spare no details.”

“Not many people would guess that a Dalish First and a Tevinter Magister would become friends, but here we are. She is an amazing person, second only to myself. I consider her a very close friend. Possibly my only one. If that is enough detail for you, Lord Warlen?”

Eirik smiled at that, the lawyer walking to his desk to pick up a few papers, “So would it be correct in assuming that you and the Inquisitor were quite close? Close enough to venture out together?”

“Someone needed to instruct Ella on starting fires.” Dorian chuckled from his seat, a smile gracing his sculpted face as he looked to the elven woman. “You would not believe it, but the Inquisitor can not start a fire to save her life.”

Chuckling in return Eirik placed a paper upon the mighty dais motioning to Dorian once more, “So we’ve established that you are a trusted friend, and that you traveled with both the Inquisitor and The Dread Wolf.”

“Both of them, yes. Though the court may have other ideas, I knew The Dread Wolf when he would pick a flower to lace with in Ella’s hair. Of course, Ella, being herself, would immediately use said flower for a potion, but I digress.”

“In your travels, do you recall certain, ‘elven artifacts’ requested by The Dread Wolf?”

“I do.” Dorian noted with a careful twinge in his tone. He shifted in his seat, and appeared as comfortable as a sinner in the Chantry.

“For the court, can you explain what the Inquisitor would do upon finding these artifacts?”

The Magister paused for a moment, a sadness appearing in his eyes as he looked to Ella, “She would… help The Dread Wolf activate them. But it wasn't like that! Sol-The Dread Wolf said these artifacts strengthened the Veil, not weakened it. We were helping. I was there I would know. Oh, you like using that twisting tongue Lord Warlen, don’t you?”

“Magister Pavus!” Eirik’s fox-like smile only widened as he continued, “But besides the word of The Dread Wolf, how can you be sure what these artifacts even were? Clearly the Inquisitor assisted him, so she had to have some idea. Or did she always follow his orders without question?”

“It wasn’t like that!” Ella shouted from her seat, her anger finally bursting open like water from a boiling pot.

“But you said she activated these artifacts, didn’t she Magister Pavus?” Eirik continued, “At the wishes of The Dread Wolf, whom we know has every intention of burning our world to the ground.”

“Speculation!”

“No further questions.”

Josephine stood, her calm exterior a vast contrast from Ella’s boiling anger. She smiled to both Sebastian and Dorian before beginning.

“Magister Pavus. Would you please, for the court, describe the Inquisitor’s personality?”

With that graceful smile replacing the heated anger, Dorian began, “She’s kind when she does not have to be. She’s the leader we did not realize we needed. She’s tough, but she’s always willing to help without question.”

“If these artifacts were something sinister, or related to The Dread Wolf’s plan, do you think the Inquisitor would be involved?”

“Absolutely not.”

“No further questions.”

With the disturbing events of the day still wracking her nerves, Ella’s body was wrought with exhaustion. Upon returning to that damn metal cot of her prison, she fell upon the hardened mattress as if it was a feathered pillow made for her head alone. She was offered a quick “Goodbye” to Dorian, but little else.  
Sleep would take her soon. She would be rid of this day, rid of the terrible pit lodged in her stomach.

And instead, another would form.

Her wandering mind drifted to the Fade, sculpting the world around her with knowing magical fingers.

She dared demons to attack her, she searched for spirits eager to counsel her, but found none.

Instead a familiar shiver took her, her body immediately curving into the figure behind the view of her blue eyes.

“Solas.”


	9. A New Turn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Things had always been easier in the Fade.”

Eirik Warlen sat before his makeshift desk in his makeshift office. 

Though the Winter Palace was well equipped for the lavish luxury of nobility and their needs; any trial that may have taken place within the halls of this great place would need no lawyers, but rather only the will of Celene. Still the office was extravagant enough for Orlais; servants always ready at hand to assist in the needs of their “Lord.”

In truth, despite the two years wearing this title under his belt, the phrase still seemed strange to hear. “Lord Warlen”, they called him. A scoff escaped him as he sat, the name sounded like that of a pompous twit. Though he supposed in many ways he was. Andraste blessed him with the same force of personality his father held. A gift, to be certain, it allowed him to slip into the role of a nobleman with a cool ease.

An idle finger upon his hand toyed with the dragon necklace circling his neck; tracing the intricate rivets with soft movement. It was a gift, passed down to him upon first meeting his Lady. His father beaming at the sight.

Even now, years later a vacant hole sat where his father had been. Proud. Strong. With a voice that commanded his people, his words lead through trials and tribulations. The lives of his people not easy ones as the luxury of Orlais, the world did hold much understand people such as they. How could they? His people were guardians. Protectors. They kept the Lady safe. His father kept the Lady safe. His people adored his father as a god who walked among them.

A hardened scowl set upon Eirik’s lips as he toyed with the papers before him, his mind wondering back to his home. To a time much simpler than this.

“I never thought he’d actually die.” 

The words slipped out of his lips before he could stop them. His father, his guardian. 

His Kolgrim. 

The day burned hot and vivid within his mind like a crackling flame, pain in his heart to mirror. That fateful day began as any other, the Chantry attended, calves sacrificed for the Lady. His father picked him up upon his broad shoulders, the two laughing as the children tore apart their breakfast with sharpened teeth.

The terror began that afternoon, when the “Warden” arrived. 

These monsters threw cold accusations around as if they had some purchase among his people. The village attempted to hold the fertile ground they owned, tried to cling to their quiet lives. But the Warden was no merciful and understanding diplomat.

They slashed their way through the village with bloody swords slaughtering everyone in view. The shopkeep, Father Eirik, no corner of their village was safe.

“They didn’t understand. It was our _right_ as protectors.” 

The words escaped him in a huff, the scowl on his face only deepening as he toyed with the papers upon his desk. After that terrible day the few women and children left were without purpose. The ashes gone, the Lady slaughtered. Years past as they moved from Haven searching for their Lady once more. 

Then Andraste called to him. 

Ellana Lavellan walked out of the Fade in the same place where their Lady was slain. It was a sign from the Maker, a purpose once more. The Herald of Andraste. It did not matter if she was an elf, or what she had done, it did not even matter that she was entangled with this “Dread Wolf.” She had seen their Lady. 

Their purpose. 

Their Lady had chosen her timing. She had sent this elf to herald her coming, and they would not miss the chance to shelter her once more from the harsh world around them.

He would play his part in this trial, with the cunning of the serpent, he convincing liar. He would bide his time until he could secure passage to take the Herald from this place once the nobles were finished with their parade. Only then when the Herald was completely reunited with the Lady’s children would she bring forth Andraste back into this world.

A careful smile crept upon his face as he remembered the birth of the children, the few eggs his people managed to shelter from the Warden’s blades. 

The children were hungry.

But soon, they would be fed. 

____________________________________________

Within the depths of the Fade, Ella dreamed. 

Her face twisted in grieving pain, even as her body conformed into her lovers like two hands lacing together. The phantom of her dream felt as warm as a hearth, the soft heartbeat under his chest lulling her into relaxation. Though the twisted lines of pain upon her face remained, a smile threatened to curl upon her hardened lips.

A terrible part of her conscious knew this was little more than a wishful dream. She was a mage, though she did not command the Fade as her lover did with little more than thought; she held some consciousness, enough to know that the phantom behind her was little more than a conjured figment of her troubled imagination.

But for the barest of moments perhaps she could simply let herself consume this moment. 

He wore no ancient gold armor within her dream instead, his arms donned that same warm lambswool sweater she so adored. His arms circled her with an intimacy linking their hips together. Heated breath peppered her neck her body responding in return linking her hips further. 

She dared not turn for fear her phantom may disappear. No, instead she let herself be held within his arms, wishing the day unto the whims of the Fade. 

Her phantom peppered kisses upon her neck, allowing himself a few nips upon her skin. His hands trailed across her skin and down the small dip unto the planes of her stomach. Her lips parted in a growl of appreciation as a painful smile curled her lips. 

What had he told her before? 

_“Things had always been easier in the Fade.”_

The realization hadn’t dawned on her until now how right he was. Had this reality, she would have snapped, snarled, growled. Words she did not mean would spill from her lips. She would have cursed him all the while wishing for only his touch. 

But instead of her curses, her phantom held her. The phantom of what they once were. 

The Fade shifted before her, silently replaying upon a memory as her phantom’s arms circled around her. 

They laughed, bright, warm things encompassing even the Fade in their joy within painted rotunda of her memory. She nuzzled up to his chest on the couch of her memory allowing her braid to fall to her shoulder as the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulled her into comfort. 

Her own heart swelled as she watched the scene play out before her weary eyes. Her head moved along his chest, toying with the jawbone she still wore to this day. He chuckled in return, a vivid thing, continuing the story he read to her even as she cuddled closer. 

_“Vhenan.”_

She pushed a stubborn tear from her eyes, her phantom wiping away the thing with lambswool. 

_“Yes?”_

_“No matter what comes, we will have this moment.”_

As if pulled by the aching of her heart, Ella reached out her fingertips. Her hands almost able to touch the memory upon the couch. Her phantom’s arms circled closer, pulling her close once more, their hearts beating as one for the barest of moments. 

“Ella.” 

Her eyes widened. 

He had not spoken before. 

“Ella.”

Again, that voice. That voice that still rang within her mind. 

“Ella!”

She awoke from the Fade to an elf lording over her, her hands shaking upon Ella’s body. An elf with a… female voice? What was going on? The Fade vanished, her phantom gone with the whims of the wind. His voice trailing off into the distance. 

“Wake up dammit!” the blonde elf demanded shaking her friend as she went on, “Come on, sleepy! Out of bed!”

“Ugh!” 

“Get your stinky arse out of bed!”

Ella blinked a few times, her hands moving to rub the sleep out of her eye. If this was indeed a dream.. she’d much rather return to the last one. 

“Sera?”

“Ugh! Yes, dammit! It’s Sera. S-e-r-a. Andraste’s tits! Come on!”

With the shaky limbs Ella stood from the metal mattress. She looked around for her guards, but there were none, instead Sera brought friends with her. Both conspicuously wearing red. 

“How did you even…” 

Ella laughed. A bright thing as she looked to the two women besides Sera. One tall, and the other.

“Dagna?”

“Of course, silly!” Dagna grinned to her Inquisitor, “Did you really think we wouldn’t help?”

“Widdle made this thingy, yeah?” Sera grinned pulling Ella out of the prison cell, “Knocked out the guards!”

Could she.. Could she actually do this? Leave this place? She would be hounded the rest of her life. There was no way Orlais and Ferelden would let her walk away from these charges. 

What was the alternative though? Die? That’s where this was headed. With each witness upon the stand her chances of surviving grew smaller and smaller. Even Dorian, a treasured friend was twisted into a malicious witness. 

No. There was only one way out of this and that was to run. 

Sera was right. She needed to leave this place. Before these humans could string her up like some animal and do away with her. She was no longer useful to them, she knew this. It was only a matter of time.

“Alright, let’s go.” 

Throwing on a hooded cloak provided by the Jenny, the former Inquisitor hid her stubbed arm under the cloak blending in with her companions. She was Dalish she knew the subtleties of blending into the shadows around her. 

The guards were little hassle after Danga worked her particular brand of magic upon them. That tiny rune packed a vicious punch, knocking out each of the the guards. They wasted no time exiting the building, soon coming out of the hidden exit Sera had discovered. 

Standing proudly and waiting for their signal, the Chargers stood guard. 

“Sera told us what was happening, thought you might need some help Boss.” The Iron Bull grinned from ear to ear before going on, “It’s the least we could do.”

“Yeah, it’s not like we could leave you in there.” Krem smiled brightly next to his commander.

“Now, let’s get you out of here.” 

A smile curled the sides of Ella’s lips as she looked upon the people surrounding her. Her friends. Her companions. No matter what came for her, she still had people who cared. Even after what she’d done, these people were willing to risk their lives for her. 

Part of her knew better than this. Her heart twisted over the thought of their risk. She would be hunted, she knew this. Could she really put her friends through that?

“Come on Ella! Get yourself out of your head!” Krem chuckled a bit clapping Ella on the back. 

Where would they even take her? 

Wherever it was. It had to be better than this place. She was kept in a cage, she was treated like little more than an animal. At least out in the open she had a chance to survive. To use the skills Keeper Deshanna imparted to each of them before moving camp.

Guards would come. She knew this. But for now…

Perhaps for now this would be a good thing. She could take sometime, think about what had happened.

Think about what happened in the Fade. 

Had that been truly been Solas?

If it was… what would that mean? They did not exactly part on good terms. She did not spare him the pain of her anger at the end. She yelled, cried, she swore their love would endure…

And he walked through that mirror still. 

The night had grown late when Eirik Warlen was finally woken from his sleep by a servant. He was barely awake when the news was relayed to him. 

His Herald was gone. 

The guards were little to stop the force that had come for her. 

His people’s purpose was gone to the wind. 

He seethed in his bed. She would return to his grasp, even if he had to collect her.

Personally.


	10. Safe and Sound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Sera.” Ella exclaimed, trying to calm herself while her anger flared upon her reddened cheeks, “I just agreed to come with you because I thought we had a plan! Are you telling me there’s no plan? Sera. I need a plan!”

The Chargers and the Jenny’s carved a way out of the Winter Palace using either Dagna’s device or good old fashioned swords. Miraculously, with Sera’s scouts and the Chargers know-how, they escaped the Winter Palace with little bloodshed. 

Hours of travelling past; Sera leading the way through a maze of back alleys and roads. Each twist and turn brought yet another scowl to Ella’s lips. Even after spending three years among the humans, these cities still gave her a certain… unease. The cold, unnatural stone that surrounded her felt as if they glared down upon her with judgement in their gaze.

“Where are we going?” Ella asked the elf next to her, that same agitation lacing her words as she spoke.

Since leaving the Winter Palace, Sera had been oddly quiet, a furrow of concentration sitting squarely on her brow. The young elven woman wove her way through the Halamshiral with a cool ease, yet she did not speak much. Her eyes constantly darting from alleyway to alleyway. 

“Just sit back, Ells. It’s no where you’d know. And with that shit hair cut, no one will know you either.” Sera finally replied, but only after a few good taps on the Jenny’s shoulder. Much to Ella’s dismay and utter aggravation. 

“Could you at least give me a hint?” Ella pestered yet again, idly stroking her shoulder where her braid used to be. “I’ve been in a dungeon for a month now, please tell me this place at least has clean water near.”

“I guess?” Sera shrugged as she skillfully tossed her bow into the air, twirling the thing, “I’ve never actually been there.”

“You what?!” Ella snapped back at the woman. No, that couldn’t have been right. There must be some sort of plan, some direction in the Jenny’s movements. Otherwise what good was escaping? With no plan the guards of the Winter Palace would surely find her. 

This time they may not even allow her a room. Just the sharp metal of the headman’s axe. 

“Sera.” Ella exclaimed, trying to calm herself while her anger flared upon her reddened cheeks, “I just agreed to come with you because I thought we had a plan! Are you telling me there’s no plan? Sera. I need a plan!”

“There’s a plan, don’t get your knickers in a twist.” Sera replied as she took another turn through an alleyway, “Jenny’s have friends, yeah? Names get dropped in a place, I pick em’ up. Get a place to sleep.”

“Are you sure?” Ella asked yet again, her anxiety cooling a bit as Sera spoke, “Is there a backup plan?”

Sera laugh, a little snort laced beneath, “Never!” 

Though Ella’s nerves never quite settled in their journey, the Jenny had been right about the drop. A note laid within, and a code inside of that detailing out directions to the farm where they could stay. For all Sera’s odd habits and strange ways, Ella had to hand it to the Jenny, she lead them not only successfully through guards of the Winter Palace, but actually had a coherent plan for getting the Inquisitor to a safe location.

With the daunting task of the long night’s journey before the group, a scowl took Ella’s face. It seemed so familiar, Bull, Sera, both walking with her to and from danger. 

There was only one man missing. 

The mundane journeys of her time as Inquisitors always seemed so much more… bearable with Solas by her side. Whether they walked in comfortable silence, or he was quick with a story, those simple times together etched themselves within her heart. 

Though a scowl appeared on her face, it was only to reflect the nagging pain tugging at her heart. What was he doing? Would he approve of her choice to run, or would be rather she stay and fight? 

At this point, did it even matter? 

A sigh escaped her, she had so many questions, more than she could count. How had a man who freed slaves come to be known as the Bringer of Nightmares. What had his life been like before? What twists and turns brought him from hero to villain?

“Don't try to think too much on it Boss.” 

Snapping Ella out of the memory she occupied herself in, she peered over to the large man next to her.

“Huh?” she replied, “Don't think too much on what?”

“Don't think too much on what this all means.” Bull offered with a grin, “I sure as fuck didn't. Or at least didn't try to anyway. Usually I try ale, that helps. But seeing as we’re fresh out, thought I’d give you a distraction. ”

“What are you talking about?” 

Ella’s brow arched in return. In the years she had known Bull, the man had yet to change. Still quick with an ear for listening and insightful words, the man was much smarter than the gentle giant he appeared. Years of work for the Qun gave him insight like no other, and with those he *truly* cared for, the Bull was eager to help.

“Having your own people turn on you, trust me Boss, I know.” The Qunari scowled, his voice as heavy as the boulder of guilt that often times sat upon him. “I understand.”

She supposed he did. Bull had given everything to the Qunari, his heart, his loyalty, his sanity. Just as she had given herself to the people of Thedas. He had been a believer, perhaps not their most fervent, but the man was dedicated to his cause. At least he had been until the Qunari asked for the last shred of humanity from The Iron Bull. The man had chosen sanity that day over an Alliance with the Qunari with the full support of his Inquisitor. 

With each smile upon Bull’s face, Ella knew they had made the right decision in saving the Chargers. 

“I can't say I'm surprised.” She scoffed covering the hurt inside. As hard as the elf tried to hide her true feelings, she could not deny the small pain by the court’s turn upon her.

“Or at least I shouldn't be. Josephine did warn me when we entered the Winter Palace. ‘Their approval could be deadly’ She told me, I just never thought she meant *this* deadly.”

“And how shitty is that?” the Qunari laughed, a bitter and dark thing. “You give them everything and they still throw it in your face. We even put their shitty land back together and they still turned on you. Assholes.”

Ella laughed, a small smile taking her lips, “Assholes.”

The elf paused for a moment, before speaking. “Though that bastard Warlen twisted his words… Dorian did try to fight for me. If you talk to him, tell him I appreciate what he tried to do. I’m not angry.” 

“That’s good.” Bull chuckled a little as he looked down to the elf, “I’m just sorry we couldn’t get him out of the Winter Palace sooner. Though it did give us the idea for another escape.”

“I knew it!” Ella laughed, a bright and vivid thing, “I knew it was you that tried to get Dorian out!”

“He thought he could help, which is why he stayed so long. Tried some diplomatic shit, buttered up the right people, you know the drill. Got close, but I think they were just dragging him on.” Bull sighed, “I knew better. Tried to convince him of that earlier, but you know Dorian. Stubborn as a-”

“Bull?” Ella chuckled, “You two were made for eachother.” 

After added twists and turns of the alleyways, the group finally left the expansive city of Halamshiral and journeyed into the outskirts of the city. The simple image of the expanse of grass and trees filled Ella’s soul with ease. She took a deep breath, inhaling the sweet scents of the countryside with a rare smile upon her face. 

They came upon a farm outside the city, a small unassuming place. They did not speak to the owners, simply snuck the small group of them inside the barn. It was a nice enough place, certainly better than the dungeon Ella had been living in for the past few weeks. The hay seemed soft for laying, the wood sturdy and most of all, it did not come with chains. 

With the little Sera had taken from Ella’s things that had been confiscated from the Winter Palace, the barn began to feel like some sort of home. She was Dalish after all, she knew how to create a home from very little. 

She supposed for the time being, this was as good of a home as any. The farm owners had been kind enough to leave food for the travelers, and a particularly damning letter of the local nobility for Sera. The rouge seemed pleased with the situation, her giggles echoing among the large barn and placing a particularly warm smile upon Dagna’s lips. 

Ella laid her cloak upon the hay below with a smile, sitting down for the first time in hours. Her feet immediately rewarded her with an end to the soft throbbing she had been experiencing before. Her legs ached, new exercise seeping into her muscles renewing their worth and taking back a bit of herself before this fiasco started. 

She stretched out lazily allowing a yawn to escape from her lips. Her blue eyes surveyed the people around her with a smile. Sera and Dagna giggled over the dwarf’s inventions while Maryden sang songs from Krem’s lap splitting the last of the ale given by the farmers.The rest of the Chargers mirrored Ella in their lazy lounging upon the hay. 

The barn was full of mumbles among the laughter until the late hours of the evening before finally exchanging it’s laughter and mumbles for the quiet of the night and the chirping of the crickets outside. 

Until a knock came to the door of the barn. 

A Jenny stumbled in, falling into Krem’s arms bloodied and broken. Red streamed from the woman’s nose, paired with the sick break in their arm the outlook was not pleasant. The woman coughed staining Krem’s shirt with blood, she tried to speak but her breath seemed lost. She had spent whatever last moments she held getting to this barn leaving nothing for her words. 

“Fen’Harel’s Teeth!” Ella cursed without thought, instinct kicking in, “Potions? Do we have potions?”

“Potions won’t help her now.” Bull scowled looking to the Jenny as Sera ran to the woman, “I know death and this is it.”

“Arsebiscuits!” Sera cursed with a scowl, “Couldn’t just give up could he? Ass.” 

Ella remained quiet as the Jenny died in Krem’s arms. She knew they could not stay hidden forever, but she did not expect to be found so soon. She was a realist. She knew if the Jenny had found them it would only be a matter of time before the guards would. 

“We need to leave.” Bull growled to the others, “Now.” 

“Now?” Sera snapped back, “Do ya think these places just pop out of an arse? I need more time! Ugh! Just give me more time dammit!”

“We don’t have time!” Bull shook his head, “That woman bled out. That means there’s a trial of blood right to this place. A trail even guards could follow. I can guarantee they will be here within the hour. We need to get out of here!”

“I don’t have another plan!” Sera yelled, trying to stuff a potion into the Jenny’s mouth, “This was it until… well until she was gonna drop me another location. But she’s dead! So that’s not happening!” 

Bull yelled back at the woman, but Ella could barely hear either. She simply stood trying to comprehend what would come next. How stupid had she been to think she could simply walk away from her problems. 

She should have known better. 

“What do we do?” Krem looked to Ella with a scowl, “Inquisitor?”

“Inquisitor!”

“Huh?” Ella blinked snapping out of her haze.

“What do we do?”

“I don’t have a plan!” Ella shouted back, “I don’t know.”

“You’re the damn Inquisitor!” Bull shouted back at the woman, “You’ve killed Corypheus! You've walked in the fucking Fade! You can do this, what is the plan?”

She had walked in the Fade. 

She had killed Corypheus. 

She could do this. 

“We fight.” Ella spoke, her voice laced with steel. “We fight whatever they have coming. We have to.”

“Then we’ll fight.” Bull agreed, “Chargers! Get ready!”


	11. A Quick Turn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We know they’re here!” the guard yelled slapping the man with his armored hand, “Tell us where!”

“Chargers!” Krem yelled, preparing his sword for battle, “Prepare yourselves! We may not have much time!” 

Within moments, yells came from the house outside of the barn, the terrified farmers dragged from their homes. She moved to leave the barn, to help the people screaming but a firm qunari hand stopped her. 

Bull shook his head, his eyes pleading to stay quiet. To refrain from making even the slightest of noises. Though the prospect was slim, perhaps the guards would end their rampage at the innocent farm owners and simply leave the barn untouched. 

The farmers would be dead anyway, Bull’s eyes spoke. 

Better to stay quiet. Better to prepare themselves for the battle. 

Better to press what advantage they had. 

Better for them. 

But not for those poor people outside. 

Grabbing her staff with the one hand she still held, Ella stormed to the doorway, pushing the Charger out of her way and opening the door. Pure rage crackled over her skin as her eyes came upon the guards, each with a farmer in their fat hands, each preparing yet another greedy strike upon the innocent people. 

“We know they’re here!” the guard yelled slapping the man with his armored hand, “Tell us where!”

She directed her staff forward tossing pure electricity towards the guards- locking the first two in place. Though the farmers scrambled to get away, the incoming guards would not allow the people to escape. The Inquisitor screamed in horror as the farmers were slaughtered, a bolt hitting one and another guard slashing through the other with deadly precision.

All sense seemed to be gone at that point from the Inquisitor’s mind as the air crackled and clouds formed over head. Though Ella could hear the faint opening of the barn door in the distance, it was but a faded thought in her mind as she moved to protect what remained of the farmers. 

It was little use though, the guards were upon them with lightning speed. They spared no innocents in their lust. The Chargers were quick to engage in the fray, Bull leading his team straight into the midst of the battle. 

With Dalish’ spells flinging next to Sera’s arrows, the guards were not in for the same slaughter they’d visited upon the farmers. Though the guards were well trained, the Chargers were far better than they. Bull slashed again and again, his greatsword cutting through the guards with deadly precision. 

For a moment, when the last guard fell, it seemed as if the battle had been won. Though a few wounds remained none were without healing. While Dalish set upon the wounded- using her staff as something other than an “aiming device”- Ella stood over the farmers with a scowl upon her lips. 

Would it always be like this? The running did not phase her, she was a member of the Dalish, to escape the Templar’s the aravel’s moved with haste in the forest. Home consisted of the people you were with, not the land that surrounded you. 

But the killing? That she could not abide by. 

Where else would they hide to escape the hangman’s noose tightening around her neck? Another barn owned by innocents? 

No.

She would not put more people in danger. 

“More will be coming. There’s no way that’s the end of the guards.” Bull shook his head, “We need a plan and fast, boss.”

“A plan?” 

Though her mouth opened and words emerged, Ella could feel nothing but a cold disconnect as her eyes gazed upon the dead bodies of the farmers. 

“We need to-”

“Inquisitor Lavellan!” a voice shouted followed by muffled footsteps in the distance, “Put down your weapons! Or we will begin shooting! Arrows are primed! Do not test my patience! 

“Arse.” Sera scoffed, bow taunt.

“Do not test me Inquisitor!”

Ella knew that voice. Arrogant and smug as always. Of course Eirik Warlen would come to collect his prize himself. The man would drag her through the court, making a show of her, while slaughtering her friends. 

“You need to get out of here.” Ella hissed to Sera and the Chargers, “Now! Before they come closer.”

“We are not leaving you.” Bull shook his head, “We can take em! Come on, Boss.”

Maybe they could. The Chargers were well trained. Bull saw to that. But what would this victory cost?

“I’m too valuable to kill here.” Ella pleaded with the two, “But you two aren’t. Warlen won’t hesitate to put an arrow through both of you.”

“Pffff. He could try.” Sera scoffed, “Probably can’t even find his dick.” 

“Sera, please.” the Inquisitor pleaded again, “They won’t stop hunting me. If you get out of here now, you can save yourselves. I’m already gone.”

“But-”

“This is an order!” Ella yelled out, “Now go!” 

“We’ll be back for you.” Bull promised as he turned to leave, “We’re not abandoning you forever.”

“I’ll be waiting.” 

While the others gathered their things, there was still one matter to tend to. Her friends would need time, more time than they had to escape. 

She would need to fight. Or at least to put up an effort to secure their escape. She was too valuable to kill outright, but she could give them a chance. 

“Alright Warlen, come get me!”

_________________________________________________________________

Standing before the great Eluvian of his hallways, Solas pondered the events of a few nights before. 

Though looking back, it was a terrible moment of weakness. The feel of Ella within his arms once again swelled his heart, her skin was just as warm as he remembered. Her neck still tickled his tongue with sparks, her body still fit perfectly within his. 

It was an indulgence.

A failing.

Two years later, and he could not complete shut his heart to her. His form still ached for the balm of her skin against his. His lips yearned for the simple taste of honeysuckle and mint. Even now, a mere two days after his latest indulgence and he still ached for her.

But it could not be afforded yet again. 

She was under heavy guard, locked away from his scouts sights. A mere slip of the tongue, a small parting of the lips in his name and she would be doomed. More so than she was now. 

Though his scout did not paint the portrait of hope for his Vhenan, Solas still held out some small confidence. Ella Lavellan was not a woman to give up easily. She was the Inquisitor, the woman who defeated an ancient magister. She was intelligent, cunning, spirited. 

And more brash than she should be. 

She had braved the Winter Palace before and came out with her head. Perhaps she could do it yet again. 

He prayed so. 

“Sir.” 

The blonde scout offered the Dread Wolf a parchment of paper rolled perfectly and tied with a bow. Solas knew what this was before even opening the paper. Word had been sent from the Winter Palace. That meant only one thing, there was a development in Ella’s case. 

His armored hand shook as he opened the letter. What could have possibly happened in two days? The trial was still going on as planned with Cassandra as the next witness. Was there a verdict already? 

With tentative hands, he unrolled the parchment his eyes reading through the words. 

Escaped.

On the run.

Resisted. 

Wounded. 

In the hands of another.

The paper crumbled in his armored hand, Solas throwing the thing to the side with frustration. She resisted their arrest giving her companions time escape. Of course she did. How could he expect any less from her?

What was she thinking? Escaping? Surely this took away the last shred of hope that remained of getting out of the Winter Palace with her head attached. Not even Josephine could help her with an escape attempt without proving her guilt. If only she would allow him to assist her. To get her out of that damn place surrounded by wolves. 

Not the sort he could control. 

He stared into the Eluvian before him. It would be so easy to storm that damn place, to save her from the people who surrounded her. His comforting hands could heal her, his arms give her rest. He would cradle her to sleep, shepard her dreams. 

And doom her in the process. 

Perhaps there was another way. 

Once upon a time, he took on the garb of a simple apostate to blend into his surroundings. He, the Dread Wolf, managed to fool even the most talented spymaster into thinking himself little more than a man who wished to help. 

It wasn’t a complete lie. He did wish to help, he created the mess of the Breach. It was only right that he stayed around to seal the hole in the sky. Even if he did not mean for such things to happen, it was his orb that created the gaping hole. He was required to fix it. 

He could play the part of the unassuming helper once more. It was not so long ago that he remained invisible in the Winter Palace during the ball. If not for his garb, he would have been completely invisible. He could do such a thing once more, don a hood and servants clothing and he would be able to move throughout the palace without any issue. 

He took to his room gathering the garb of a servant. It was easy enough to craft such a disguise. As long as he did not meet a member of the Inquisition, he would not be discovered. Even then, there was a reason he so often kept to himself within the rotunda. At times he wondered if there were any outside of the Inquisitor's inner circle that could describe his appearance other than, “The bald elf.” 

He would press that advantage, perhaps she could be convinced to leave with him. He could not bring his Vhenan on this journey, but he could see her safe at least. It was his fault she was knee deep in mess once more, it was only fitting that he help pull her out. 

“Hold on, Vhenan.” the Dread Wolf whispered as he soon stepped through the mirror, “I’m coming.”

__________________________________________________________________

 

Ella awoke to the sound of hoofs upon the ground. Her head throbbed beyond reason, and she was fairly sure her side was wounded. With a wince, her hand ventured to her side feeling the skin for some sign of puncture. 

“Fenhedis.”

The wound was nothing too deep, just enough to pain her once the wound stopped it’s initial bleeding. She would be fine, she managed to stay awake long enough to see her friends escape before blacking out. Bull and the last of the Chargers disappeared through the forest before she hit the ground with her given wound.

Just enough to incapacitate her, to keep her docile. 

With another hiss of her lips, she moved surveying her surroundings; seems Warlen had locked her in the back of a carriage. Surprising, given the show he could make of parading the Inquisitor back to the Winter Palace. 

Even more surprising was the sound of hooves on grass rather than the cobble of the city. They had not ventured too far from the city before the guards were lead to her doorstep. Given the amount of time she was passed out from the wound… they would need to be back in the city. 

“Warlen!” she yelled through the grate in the door, “Warlen you ass! Talk to me! Someone!”

No response. 

A hardened scowl appeared over her lips, her free hand pushing the shortened hair from her face as she yelled again, “Talk to me assholes!” 

Nothing. 

This would require certain drastic measures. She began to channel sparks into her fingertips only to find her mana drained. No matter, there were other ways of getting the attention of whoever this driver was. 

Though the pain in her side threatened to bring tears to her eyes as she did, the Inquisitor kicked her leg against the door, the bang loud enough to scare the horses. Or at least cause them to pause. 

“Quiet in there!” the guard yelled back, “Don’t make me put my knife in you again.”

“As if you could.” Ella taunted back at the guard, “Dirthara-ma.” 

The guard remained silent once more. Ella moved to the small window looking outward confirming her fears. 

Wherever she was being taken, it was far away from the Winter Palace.


End file.
